


If I Shut My Eyes, If I Disappear

by Lobelia321



Category: Legally Blonde (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, Presidential Election, Sweet, Trapped, US Politics - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobelia321/pseuds/Lobelia321
Summary: Elle Woods is running for President and in danger of being kidnapped. But is she really in need of a security detail?
Relationships: Elle Woods/David Kidney
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	If I Shut My Eyes, If I Disappear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SuburbanSun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/gifts).



<3 <3 <3

from: c.starling@fbi.gov  
to: dk@fbi.gov

Dave

Bit of an emergency. It's about the presidential primaries in Sacramento. Please see attached papers (use code Z+). In response to the heightened security risk (as per attachment doc 1.3), we're stepping this up to a red alert. You'll be in charge and also the personal bodyguard of the presidential candidate.

Come in for a briefing tomorrow, 07:00, my office.

Clarice

\-------

from: dk@fbi.gov  
to: c.starling@fbi.gov

Thanks for your email. I'll be there tomorrow at 7 am sharp. It's unusual for me to go back into the field but I had my last ops training three weeks ago so am up-to-date.

I should inform you that, given the new assignment, I am personally acquainted with the presidential candidate.

Regards  
D.

San Diego Field Office  
Southern District of California

\-------

from: c.starling@fbi.gov

to: dk@fbi.gov

Dave

I know you're up-to-date and I know you know the candidate. We do do our background research, you know.

Get ready to travel; staff at the Sacramento Office will arrange the trip and accommodation at the Hilton.

And call me on the encrypted line.

Clarice

\-------

He put the phone down and took a deep breath. And then he left the office, tucked the cell with the code-scrambled briefing documents into his jacket pocket and drove down to Windansea Beach.

He crouched on a rock for what seemed like hours and stared out at the surf in between scrolling through the briefing material. Sea gulls cawed. There were some lone surfers out in the breakers. The sun sparkled on the Pacific; the palm trees swayed; his insides were in turmoil.

He hadn't seen her in fifteen years. There had been a time when they had been thrown together almost daily, and then he'd been recruited by the Bureau and moved into different circles, had even had a stint with the foreign office in Dnipropetrovsk for a while, then four years with the Agency, now here in San Diego. Over the years, he had learned to be guarded and that it was wisest to be solitary. The life suited him. He liked being alone.

He'd never married, never had kids, hadn't dated in years, parents passed away in the noughts, no other close family. He was a valuable asset that way, impervious to blackmail.

Nobody knew why he'd never married.

There was nobody to tell.

<3 <3 <3

'Elle Woods for President.'

So it was finally happening. Large pastel-blue letters, a crisp sans-serif font, emblazoned on a vivid pink background, proclaimed it to all of California. Or at least to all of Sacramento. Or, at the very least, to all of the passers-by around the Hilton Hotel.

Elle stood in the parking lot, with her brand designer and looked up at the two-story-high banner.

"Good job!" Elle said to Clarissa.

Clarissa beamed.

"It's absolutely perfect," Elle said. "You should so totally be head of your design company. You are so phenomenally talented."

"Well." Clarissa ducked her head modestly. "I have actually been promoted to assistant design director."

"Wow, Clarissa! That is fantastic! I wish I could invite you for a glass of wine or at least a cup of coffee. But..." Elle glanced at the schedule on her phone. "I have a full day ahead of me. When we're back in LA, okay?"

"That would be very nice," Clarissa said. "And thank you again for the opportunity. I..." She went a bit pink. "I loved working with you. It was a real privilege, and I want to thank you for all you've done."

"Thank me once I'm President!" laughed Elle, hugged Clarissa and hurried inside.

She had just ten minutes to get ready before her early-morning breakfast with Nakeesha, her campaign manager, Yoo-mi, the local event co-ordinator, and some new security guy who'd been sent round at the last minute, she didn't exactly know why. Something to do with classified information. She'd have to speak to Abril about it.

Elle ducked into the set of bathrooms off the hotel lobby to have a pee, check her clothes and touch up her make-up. It was so good to have the new Carlotta collection at her fingertips, specially designed for her presidential campaign trail: crinkle-free, quick-dry, easy to dress up or down, and so complimentary to her complexion.

She gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror above the basins. It was only half-length and she had to stand on her tiptoes to see down to her waist but even so, she could tell that the outfit looked amazing and fitted her to a T. Rose-colored blazer and skirt, pastel-blue blouse, matching rose lipstick, and the cutest satin trim on the edging of the blazer. It was a bit of a Tyrolean look, just a touch of Alpine chic, and it suddenly occurred to her that this look would go perfectly with a little pillbox hat.

She got out her phone and activated voice recognition. "Note," she said. "Ask Carlotta and Fatma about hat acessorizing. Maybe channel the Jackie look but update it?" For a brief moment she contemplated gloves and a little netted veil but that would possibly be taking matters too far.

She snapped shut her lipstick and ran her fingers through her hair. Kultum, her hairdresser, was another person who had done an awesome job. Her hair practically styled itself; all she needed to do was get up out of bed, shake her head and there it was: ready to go. The shoulder-length bob was practical and flattering, and showed off her discreet coral earrings.

"Wow," she said to her own reflection. "First day campaigning for President of the darn United States!" And then she gave a quick glance around the bathroom before hopping up and down three times and squeeing in ridiculous delight and giving a rendition of the old Delta Nu rallying cry.

The breakfast room was hushed and carpeted. Outside the windows, a fountain played, and were those actual peacocks strutting about on a perfectly manicured lawn? Well, the lawn was maybe a tiny bit too manicured, and was it necessary to have quite such a big fountain in this inland area of California and at the height of a drought?

Still, this was not the time to make a fuss but she did make a mental note to talk to Abril about adding a sustainability and climate emergency guideline to how the campaign trail should be managed overall.

Muzak tinkled in the cordoned-off area of the breakfast lounge.

Elle helped herself to a slice of toast and a mug of steaming hot coffee at the buffet before scanning the room for her team.

And there they were, next to some sort of enormous bouquet of flowers and leaves. She could see Yoo-mi -- "hi", she waved --, and she could see Nakeesha -- on her phone but raising her eyebrows in greeting --, and she could see the feet of this new security person, who was otherwise hidden behind the giant bouquet. Feet clad in black scuffed brogues, about two seasons out of date.

That must be the security man.

She breezed across the carpet, rounded the corner, coffee mug balanced in one hand, phone, notes and toast in the other; she moved past the bouquet of flowers, the man at the table turned around, and Elle dropped her toast and sloshed coffee over her knuckles.

The man in the black brogues got to his feet. He made a quick, oddly formal bow. "Pleased to see you," he said.

"David Kidney," Elle said. "O my god." She plonked the mug on the table and held out her arms.

"Uh," he said. "I don't think-- I'm in effect your bodyguard, and it's not appropriate--"

"Oh, never mind that," said Elle and threw her arms around him. He was solid against her, dressed in a dark blue suit, with a squiggle of a cable running from his ear to somewhere inside his jacket. He smelled of damp wool and jam.

"You two know each other?" Yoo-mi peered at them.

"Yes," said Elle, at the same time as David said, "Not really."

"Well," Elle added, "it's been a long time. But this is amazing! What are you doing now, and what are you doing here, and it's so great to have you be part of my team!"

David positively pinked up at this.

"When did you last see each other?" Nakeesha put away her phone and looked them up and down.

"It must be ten years or more," Elle said.

"Fifteen," David said. "Fifteen years and five months." Outside, a peacock screeched.

"Wow," said Elle. "A math genius as well as a kick-ass lawyer and biochemist, and, well, I don't know what else you've been doing with yourself. It's so brilliant to see you, and we must have a good long catch-up. Yoo-mi, can you schedule that in?"

Yoo-mi frowned. "I don't know if there's a window for that but I'll see what I can do."

"I'm here in a professional capacity," David said stiffly.

"Yes, yes." Elle sat down. David remained standing. "I totally understand. Yoo-mi, we'll find time, won't we?"

"Let me just run the day's proceedings by you," said Yoo-mi, "and then we can slot in any contingencies."

As Elle listened to her event manager reeling off the itinerary, she let her gaze rest on David. He looked much as he had back in their days at Harvard Law School. His hair was as thick as ever, and as dark, shot through with faint veins of gray. The scruffy, nerdy look he'd rocked back at Law School had given way to a carefully neutral business look. Neutral, she supposed, so that he'd blend in, so that he'd be able to look after security, scan his surroundings, serve and protect.

Or whatever it was he did now. She assumed he was more than a body guard. She assumed he was here in some sort of undercover capacity.

When he caught sight of her eyes on him, he went an even deeper shade of pink.

Still a bit dorky, then. Not completely transmogrified.

She smiled to herself and sipped her coffee. She gazed up and outside, at the fountain, at the lawn, at the peacock, at the figure emerging from inside the fountain, at the peacock strutting oblivious, at the black-clad intruder darting across the grass, crashing into the breakfast room in a shower of shards, dripping water on the carpet, pulling out some sort of device, unleashing chaos.

Acrid smoke billowed into her eyes. Shrill shrieks pierced her ears. She tried to say, "Nakeesha? Yoo-mi? Are you OK?" but no sound came out of her throat. She heard Nakeesha calling as if through cotton wool, there was something hot and wet on her blouse, maybe coffee, or maybe blood, her head pounded, and then something heavy and dark was thrown across her head, a hand clamped a cloth to her face, and she knew no more.

<3 <3 <3

As far as she could tell, she was in some trailer, and as far as she could also tell, the trailer was moving along a road. There was the sound of traffic outside, and now and again the trailer jumped across a pot hole. She felt dizzy. She didn't know how long she'd been out. The trailer smelled of dank metal; the air was close and warm; it was pitch dark.

"Help!" Elle screamed and banged her palms against the sides of the trailer. "Let me out! Help!" But she could tell that it was futile. Nobody could hear.

"Shoot," she said to herself.

And then she hitched up her Carlotta-designed skirt above her knees, slipped off her Pradas, slid down the wall and sat cross-legged on what appeared to be a metal floor. She closed her eyes and started her breathing exercises. In to the count of three, hold, out to the count of six. Start with the clavicular breath, proceed to the abdominal, and finish with the lumbar breath. It was perfectly pointless to have the eyes closed in this darkness but it was the psychological effect of it. She saw the familiar little squiggles swim around in slow circles behind her eye lids and that was strangely soothing.

"Right," she said out loud after ten in-and-out breaths and opened her eyes. "What does daddy always say? 'Button,' he says, 'the world is full of people who are boring and ugly and serious. And you're none of those things!'"

Why this particular mantra should help her in this particular situation wasn't entirely clear but it stiffened her spine and made her lift her chin up high. But then she also remembered another thing from her very first day at Law School, from Professor Stromwell's class: 'The law is reason free from passion.' Aristotle's words, and how apt they were for her current situation.

"Reason free from passion," she murmured to herself. "Logic free from fear. Empathy free from terror. Yes!" she shouted. "I will not be daunted! Kidnap me all you like, I shall prevail!" And she banged the side of the trailer for emphasis.

"Wha---?" came a voice from out of the darkness.

Elle scrambled to her feet.

The trailer rumbled. The engine roared.

"Is there anyone here?" she said, heart pounding.

"What is it, where are we?" came the voice again, and then the voice groaned, and then with a sharp pang, she recognised who it was.

"David!" she shouted. "O my god! Is that you?"

There was a sound of someone sitting up. "Elle?" the voice said.

"Yes! O my god, where are you? Hang on, I'm coming over. Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She made her way, trailing her fingers along the walls until her stocking feet bumped against a warm thigh. She reached out one blind hand and touched whatever she could reach, and it was hair. Instinctively, her grasp tightened in his hair. "David? Is that really you?"

"Yeah, uh. I've bumped my head."

"I can feel it." She moved her fingers across his scalp. "There's a sticky patch here; it must be blood. Quick, how do you say 'I have a PhD in biochemistry' in Russian?"

"Ya menya est doktorskaya stepen v oblasti biokhimyi," David said in an absentminded way, and then, "How is this relevant right now?"

"It's the principal law of first aid. Ascertain that the patient is fully _compos mentis_. So: good job."

"But-- how did you...?"

"I do remember how we first met, you know," Elle said. "Now, can you move your fingers?"

"Yes, but we need to get out of here."

"I know," Elle said. "What can you tell me? You're not just an ordinary bodyguard, are you?"

"I apologise," he said. "I'm very sorry that I failed you. I had one job, and I let you down."

"Thank your for saying that. You're very sweet. And also totally wrong because of course you needn't apologise."

"I do. I should have been scanning the room. I should... I should have alerted the team. There were men everywhere but--" She could hear him rub his face. "-- I should have known about those birds. They had explosive devices strapped to them."

"Oh, that is so evil!" said Elle. "Those poor peacocks."

"But I just kept looking at you," said David.

"Oh, well," said Elle. "Well, you know."

There was a silence. Then there was the sound of David clearing his throat. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course you can," Elle said and stretched out her legs. Her left leg came to rest against David's right leg.

"When I... when you..."

Elle said nothing. If there was one thing she'd learned over the years as a lawyer and then in politics, it was to curb her own immediate desire to jump in with her own advice, prompts and comments and to sit with somebody's silence.

But this silence went on so long that Elle almost feared that David had fallen unconscious again, and that he was maybe concussed. If it had not been for his warm leg firm against hers, the folds of his neutral suit pants against the nylon of her pantyhose, she would have worried that he'd fainted. She twitched her knee, and his knee twitched in sympathy. She flexed her foot, and she felt his ankle flex against hers, and an involuntary smile creased her cheeks.

Finally, he cleared his throat once again. "You know that time, back in Law School, when you... when you helped me out with those two girls?"

Elle burst out laughing. "You mean that time I went and slapped you across the face? Gosh, I am so sorry. I don't think I ever said how sorry I was."

"Uh... I--"

"It really was quite unforgivable of me to engage in bodily harm, even though it was with the intention of doing good. But if there's one thing I've learned it's that you can't ever be the judge of what's good for other people. I shouldn't have presumed. David, can you forgive a foolish young woman?"

"I... don't think you were foolish."

"Well, I was. But tell me," and here she couldn't help nudging him with her stocking foot and enjoying the little shiver that went up his leg in response, "did you every actually end up going out with those women?"

"Uh... yes."

"That's fantastic. Not that they were at all worthy of you. They were prejudiced boneheads."

"Actually," and he cleared his throat again, "we, uh. We did end up spending a beautiful night together, just like you said."

"Did you?" Elle cried in delight.

"All three of us. Actually." He coughed.

"All three of you! That's so wild! Dr David Kidney, you do have hidden depths."

"It... it was, yes. But the best thing about it was..."

The trailer made a sudden lurch to the left, and Ellen and David were thrown against each other.

"I thought of you the whole time."

"Oh," she said. "Oh, David."

He continued, all in a rush. "It was just so... what you said. That we spent a beautiful night together. And that you broke my heart and that I had given you the greatest pleasure you had--"

"Stop!" She put her hand out and touched his arm. "You're embarrassing me. I can't believe you're remembering this word for word after all these years."

"I was a bit of an innocent when I started Law School," David said. "I had really only ever sort of... you don't mind me telling you this? You sure?"

"No, I don't mind. It's very sweet of you. And it was all so long ago. But are you sure that _you_ want to be telling me this?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. It's good, uh. It's good to get it out in the open. And really," he gave a short little laugh, "really I think I've had a, uh, crush on you ever since."

"Oh," she said again.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry."

"I just... couldn't get that out of my mind. What that would be like." His voice dropped by an octave. "Actually to spend a beautiful night with you."

"David," she said, in an equally low voice. "Are you sure you're not a tiny bit concussed?"

"I would, you know. I would give you the greatest pleasure--"

"Stop," she said. "Don't say anything you'll regret later. This is a situation _in extremis_ ; it's no wonder all sorts of emotions come up."

"You're amazing, you know that," he said.

She laughed.

"No, I mean it. Here we are and I'm the one with years of training in profiling and intelligence and terrorist situations, and you're the one who's cool as a cookie."

"Well," Elle said. "I am a Delta Nu, you know!"

"I know!" he cried and sounded almost manic. "And I hope your campaign is very successful, and I will be the first to vote for you. I can't imagine anyone better running the country."

"You're maybe a little delirious," laughed Elle, and then she caught herself and said, serious now, "So you think they kidnapped me because of the presidential primaries?"

"Of course," David said.

"Hm," said Elle. "Hm, hm, hm." Something was nudging against her thoughts. Something was rummaging around in the back of her mind, and then flashes of it sparked into the front of her mind, and then she was on her feet, sucking in her breath and stumbling around in search of her shoes.

"What?" said David. "What, what?"

"These people aren't kidnapping me for reasons of presidential terrorism," said Elle.

"Uh, they aren't?"

"No! This is a fashion abduction!"

"A what?"

"Carlotta's new designer range!"

"Carlotta what? What is that?"

"It's what I'm wearing! Top of the range, designed exclusively for me, the Presidential Pride collection, not been leaked to the press. I was going to showcase it today, at the Sacramento town hall event."

"Uh. I don't entirely know what you're talking about."

"Quick," Elle said. "Take off your clothes."

"What?"

"Just do it," Elle said. She listened out for sounds from outside. "If I'm not mistaken, and I don't think I am, we'll be arriving at our destination in under twenty minutes. Elk Grove. The Air-Like-Champagne Fashion Center."

"Elk what? I don't know what that is."

"No, David," Elle said fondly. "Of course you don't. But I do. And here's what we're going to do. We're going to have to get rid of these clothes."

So David took off his shirt, and Elle took off her blazer and blouse, and what a blessing that was, to be sitting around in just a bra in the closeness of the trailer with heat bouncing off its metal walls, and then David took off his pants, and Elle stripped off her skirt, and then the trailer lurched, and Elle fell against David again, and David's chest was warm and firm and furled with hair, and he gave a sharp intake of breath, and then they lay there, not moving, and Ellen could feel his heart beat against hers.

"Are you still married to Emmett?" David said.

Elle sighed. "We're not going to talk about that. And anyway, I know that you know the answer because I can't imagine you were assigned to me without doing a thorough back-up check or, you know, a three-minute google."

"No," David said unhappily. "That's correct."

"Give me your shirt." Elle pulled it over her head, and she stepped into his pants which sloshed around her legs but she twisted her blouse into a makeshift belt and hitched them around her waist. "And now to the truly terrible part: we have to destroy this skirt and this blazer. My heart bleeds to do it but we have to do it in order to prevent intellectual property theft. If you rip at the blazer, and I unpick the hem of the skirt, we should just be able to make Carlotta's fashion useless to anybody else. Can you do that?"

"Anything. I'll do anything. Even let myself be caught half-naked in my underwear."

"You're the sweetest man, and a brilliant intelligence officer. I'll commend you for resourcefulness and total calm under stress."

"Can I ask for one thing?"

"Sure."

"Uh."

Elle sighed.

"Just... uh. The once."

"I really don't think this is a fantastic idea."

There came the sound of the first seam splitting apart. Was David using his teeth or what? It sounded like the very fabric of the world cracking open. And when Elle thought of his teeth on her blazer, and his tongue on the raw cotton, something inside her did shiver.

"I know why you chose the colors, you know," David said, and his voice was hoarse.

Elle imagined his dark eyes darting around inside the darkness. It was frustrating how even after so many minutes and minutes in this trailer, their eyes still hadn't adjusted, how there didn't seem to be even the tiniest chink in the walls. "Why?" she said in a low voice.

"Because you're running in the California primaries. And you're running as a cross-party candidate. That's why your colors are both red and blue. But muted. Pastel pink and pastel blue. You're wearing your politics on your body."

"Because," Elle breathed, "I believe in the founding fathers' principles of not being limited by party politics." She was starting to sweat in her armpits, in David's close-knit shirt. "Okay, you. Just the once."

So they did.

They kissed in the dark hollow of this moment out of time.

And then the trailer shuddered to a halt. Elle said, "Of course, the founding fathers made so many other problematic pronouncements. Women, enslavement, native people, but now, let's just get ripping."

<3 <3 <3

from: c.starling@fbi.gov

to: dk@fbi.gov

Dave

Unbelievable how you managed to contain that kidnap situation. Central office was going ballistic. Ready to bring in the big guns and blow this whole thing out of the water. Report back asap. Encryption code QA+.

Well done, btw.

Clarice

\-------

from: dk@fbi.gov

to: c.starling@fbi.gov

Thanks for your email. I should let you know that I'm applying for extended leave as I'm planning to follow the presidential campaign trail on my own shilling. This candidate deserves our full support, and I'm going to do my bit.

Regards

D.x

San Diego Field Office

Southern District of California

\-------

from: c.starling@fbi.gov

to: dk@fbi.gov

Did you just put an 'x' next to your signature? Stranger miracles have happened.

Have donated to the E.W. Fund. Good luck, Dave.

Clarice

<3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2019 Yuletide Fic Exchange. This is my first Yuletide ever, and I was so privileged and excited to be writing for SuburbanSun. Thank you, SuburbanSun, for the excellent prompts. I chose the following out of the smørgasbord you provided: Trapped in an enclosed space; secret service / bodyguard; US politics; Elle Woods for President! Also you said you liked 'epistolary'. And I've always wanted to show David Kidney loads more love. I hope you enjoy my foray into Legally Blonde fandom. "Like, it's hard?" :-)
> 
> Also thank you to the amazing mods who run Yuletide!
> 
> There's a teensy-weensy cross-over with Silence of the Lambs and Clarice Starling. Wikipedia cites an early 19th-Century report on Elk Grove's air being "like champagne" which I nicked.
> 
> The fic's title is taken from the lyrics to the song 'We Could Still Belong Together' by Lisa Loeb, from the Legally Blonde movie soundtrack.


End file.
